


Truce

by Spikedluv



Series: Just Like Riding A Bike [1]
Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Community: numb3rsflashfic, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-02
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don’s war with himself ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truce

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately after 4.08 Tabu. I have been thinking about this since seeing Sean Patrick Flanery in this ep because SPF is _mrowr!_ and Don + SPF = _mrowr!_ n. Written for numb3rsflashfic Challenge #54: War and cross-posted there.
> 
> Written: January 9, 2008

  


Don watched Liz leave, then heaved a huge sigh -- of relief, regret? -- and hunched forward. Resting his elbows on his knees, Don let his head fall into his hands and closed his eyes. All he could see behind his eyelids was Liz’s face, her expression accusing him of not trying hard enough, of hurting her despite his promise not to. He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face, swiped it back over his hair.

He stared at the television, let the sounds of the hockey game wash over him without really seeing it. He needed a drink, something to take the edge off, make him forget the mess he was making of his personal life, but the walls of his apartment felt like they were closing in on him. David had invited Don to go for a drink with him and Jeff Upchurch after they’d finally put the case to bed, but Don hadn’t felt like socializing. Keeping up his end of the conversation had just seemed like too much work at the time, but now he couldn’t bear the idea of being alone with his own thoughts.

Don snatched up the remote and turned off the television with a decisive punch of his thumb. He found his keys on the table in the hallway, then grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair on his way to the front door. He drove to the bar David had told him they’d be at, in case he changed his mind. Don didn’t know if they’d still be there, nor did he know if he’d make good company, but the urge to be surrounded by people, to get outside of his own head, overrode his reticence.

Inside the bar, the tinkle of laughter, clinking glasses and throbbing bass welcomed Don. He saw Jeff sitting at a table across the crowded room. Don caught Jeff’s eye and raised his hand in greeting. Jeff smiled and raised his bottle in return. That smile did interesting things to Don’s insides, things he figured it was best to ignore. Jeff was leaving, and besides, Don didn’t do that anymore.

Don took his jacket off and hung it over the back of the chair to Jeff’s left. A waitress appeared beside him. Her tray was full of empty bottles and glasses she was returning to the bar, and her face was flushed, but she smiled when she asked Don what he wanted to drink, calling him ‘hon’ even though she looked like she was at least a decade younger than he. Don ordered a beer, then inclined his chin towards the bottle Jeff held, silently asking him if he needed another.

Jeff shook his head and gave his bottle a little shake. “I’m good, thanks.” He shifted his smile to the waitress, and Don suddenly felt like he could move again.

Don pulled his chair out and sat. “Where’s David?”

“You just missed him.”

Don nodded, disappointed that he’d missed David, but not surprised that he’d called it an early night, since he had to be up early (preferably without a hangover) to make it through the morning at the 23rd Street Community Center, where he volunteered when they didn’t have to work the weekend.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Don told Jeff. “I figured you’d be on your way to Guadalajara.”

Jeff gave him a slow, easy smile as he placed the mouth of the bottle to his lips. “They gave that one to someone else.”

Don nodded, then thanked the waitress as she set his beer in front of him. Don reached for his wallet, but Jeff said, “I’ve got this one.” The waitress was gone before Don could argue.

“Thanks.” Don raised his bottle to Jeff, then took a long drink. The cold liquid soothed his throat and settled nicely in his belly. He sighed, relaxing for the first time since he’d received the call three days ago, since Liz had confronted him about not waking her. “God, what a day.”

Jeff tipped the mouth of his bottle in Don’s direction, said, “To closing cases.”

Don clinked his bottle to Jeff’s. “And everyone walking away in one piece.”

They both drank.

“So what brings you out tonight?” Jeff asked. “I thought you had plans.”

Don shrugged, trying to ignore the tightening of muscles that had begun to ease when he’d finally worked up the courage to break things off with Liz. “Change of plans.”

Jeff’s smile said he knew all about that.

Don changed the subject. “Where are you off to next?”

“Don’t know,” Jeff drawled, which started a conversation about the places where Jeff had been sent on assignment.

When Don mentioned that his first assignment had been manhunting, Jeff really opened up, and they shared horror stories, comparing tracking fugitives with negotiating with kidnappers, and trying to outdo each other on worst stakeout (Don thought the week he’d spent in the gas station restroom with Coop won, hands down) and worst accommodation (Don had stayed in motels that rented by the hour, but he’d never woken to discover that sometime during the night he’d gained an unexpected and unwanted bed partner that had slithered in to share his body heat, so he gave that one to Jeff).

Time flew, and before Don realized how late it was the lights flickered and the bartender rang the bell for last call.

Jeff finished his beer in one swallow, then gave Don a smile that made his insides melt. “You save me cab fare and I’ll stand you a night cap from the mini bar.”

Despite the beer he’d just swallowed, Don’s mouth went dry. He managed what he hoped was a casual, “The Bureau sprang for a mini bar but not a rental?”

Jeff was still smiling as he pushed his chair back and stood. “A man’s got to have his priorities.”

The low hum of arousal that had been singing along Don’s nerve endings for most of the evening, an unconscious response to that smile Jeff kept flashing, the slow drawl, snapped, and heat coiled in his belly. He finished his own beer, then stood up and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. Don followed Jeff to the door, even though his knees felt like they might give out any moment, then directed him to the corner of the lot where he’d parked the Suburban.

“Where you staying?”

Jeff told him, then settled back into the passenger seat in a loose limbed sprawl, one arm resting along the door, the hand of the other braced on his thigh. After one glance that had sweat breaking out on the back of his neck, Don kept both hands on the steering wheel, and both eyes on the road.

Don sensed the beginnings of an itch he hadn’t felt -- hadn’t _allowed_ himself to feel -- much less scratched, in years. Coop hadn’t been the first, but he had been the last. Since then Don had contented himself with women, searching for the same thing his parents had found. Given his poor track record, Don wondered if it might be time to rethink that course of action.

Don pulled into the hotel parking lot and found a spot as close to the entrance as he could. He glanced over at Jeff, who was looking at Don from under his lashes, small smile curling the corners of his lips. Don’s palms started to sweat.

Jeff opened the passenger side door and slid out of the SUV. He stepped to the front of the Suburban, one thumb pressed to his lips, his eyes seeking Don’s through the front window.

Don turned off the engine, then opened his door and slid out of the vehicle. He tried to ignore the way his belly fluttered when Jeff’s smile widened.

Jeff shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans while Don clutched the keys in his, the rough edges digging into his skin. Their shoulders brushed twice as they walked to the entrance in charged silence. Jeff opened the front door and pressed the button to call the elevator. He held the doors while Don entered the elevator, then pressed the button for his floor.

They remained silent until Jeff swiped the key card to let them into his room. He flipped the light switch as he walked past, then took his jacket off and draped it carelessly across the foot of the bed. He automatically began rolling up his sleeves and Don caught himself staring at Jeff’s forearms.

“Make yourself comfortable, I just need to . . . .” Jeff tilted his chin towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, okay.” Don waited until the light went on and the door closed behind Jeff before slipping the keys into his jacket pocket.

The room was arranged like many other hotel rooms Don had been in. The bathroom and closet area behind him; a sitting area to his right, with a sofa and what looked to be a most uncomfortable chair separated by a coffee table; the rest of that wall was taken up by the king sized bed and two bedside tables. Across from the bed was a cabinet that most likely held the television, with a few drawers below. Beside that was the desk, and next to Don’s legs was the mini-fridge with the tiniest microwave Don had ever seen sitting on top.

Don took his jacket off and laid it over the arm of the couch, then walked across the room and looked out the window, which faced the highway. He saw Jeff’s reflection in the window when he stepped out of the bathroom.

“What’ll it be?” Jeff spoke to Don’s back. He squatted down by the fridge and opened the door. “Beer or . . .beer?”

Don shivered at the grin Jeff sent his way. “I guess I’ll have a beer,” Don said to Jeff’s reflection, then turned and walked back across the room.

Jeff held two bottles between his fingers when he stood. He offered one to Don, then indicated the couch. “Have a seat.”

Don moved past Jeff, hyper aware of the heat radiating off his body, and sat at the end of the couch where he’d tossed his jacket. He uncapped the beer and watched as Jeff opened the cabinet and slid out the television, then found the remote and turned it on.

Jeff sat down at the opposite end of the couch, one foot braced on the coffee table, and flipped through the stations. Given the lateness (or earliness) of the hour, Don wasn’t surprised that most of the offerings were infomercials. Finally Jeff settled on a rerun of some 80's sitcom and set the remote aside. He settled into the couch as if he’d become part of it, then lifted the bottle to his mouth.

Don, in contrast, felt stiff as a board. He’d been relaxed at the bar, just enjoying a night out with a co-worker after a tough case, but now the air between them was fraught with tension.

Jeff reached out and grazed Don’s arm with his finger tips. Startled by the touch, Don jumped and spilled some of his untouched beer.

Jeff grinned. “Don’t worry, Eppes, nothing’s gonna happen if you don’t want it to.”

Startled again, Don gave an involuntary huff of laughter. He didn’t know what embarrassed him more, Jeff calling him on his tenseness, or being so open about the fact that he’d invited Don back to his room for sex.

Jeff was still grinning when he said, “What, you thought I’d play coy, dazzle you with innuendo?”

Don shook his head. He didn’t know what he’d expected, really. Wasn’t even sure why he was here. Breaking up with Liz was like the final straw, the catalyst that made him question what he’d been doing for the past eight years or so. Made him wonder if it wasn’t time to admit to himself that searching for the ‘American Dream’ wasn’t going to make him happy. Finally he just said, “It’s been a long time for me.”

Jeff’s voice was soft, but no less potent, when he said, “Being with a guy?”

Don nodded. “Admitting to myself, or anyone else, that I _wanted_ to be with a guy.”

“Wow.” Jeff sat up, took another sip of beer before setting the bottle on the coffee table. “I’m not sure whether to be flattered or frightened.”

Don rolled his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Upchurch.”

Jeff’s lips curled. “Too late.”

Don couldn’t help his return smile at Jeff’s comment, but he said, “And quit smiling like that.”

“Why,” Jeff asked as he slid closer and took the bottle from Don’s unresisting fingers, “is that what turns you on, Eppes, my smile?”

“And also,” Don said, his voice a little rough, as he watched Jeff set the bottle on the coffee table, “quit talking.”

Jeff’s smile was nearly blinding, and went straight to Don’s dick. “I think I can manage that,” he said, and then he pressed his hand, cold and damp from the bottles of beer, against the side of Don’s face, and kissed him.

Jeff started out slow, possibly in deference to Don’s admission, the kiss closed-lipped and chaste, then he licked Don’s lips, licked his way into Don’s mouth, and Don moaned into the kiss, turned his body into Jeff’s. He got one hand on Jeff’s back and pulled him in closer, opened himself to the kiss, let Jeff deepen it until Don felt as if he were being devoured.

He tugged on Jeff’s shirt, tore at the buttons. He needed to feel Jeff, to know that this was really happening.

Jeff grabbed Don’s wrists. “You rip my shirt, Eppes, and you’re buying me a new one.”

“Please,” Don whispered, unable to vocalize what it was he wanted, needed.

Jeff straddled Don’s lap, ground their groins together. Jeff stared into his eyes, watched Don’s face as he responded to the pressure. He let go of Don’s wrists and Don immediately clamped his hands onto Jeff’s hips, pulled him down as Don pushed up.

Jeff held onto Don’s shoulders, bit his bottom lip as he rode out Don’s thrusts. Don slid one hand up Jeff’s back to the back of his head, pressed until Jeff bent his head to Don’s so Don could capture that lip between his own teeth before sliding his tongue between Jeff’s lips and mapping out his mouth. Jeff moaned as Don tugged his shirt out of his jeans and slipped his hand beneath, pressed his palm flat against the heat of Jeff’s bare back.

“See,” Jeff managed as he shoved his hand between them, “just like riding a bike.” He tried to get his hand inside Don’s jeans without unbuttoning them, then huffed, “Jeez, Eppes, could your jeans be any tighter?”

“Getting tighter as we speak,” Don said, his lips pressed to Jeff’s face as Jeff looked down at where he was trying to get into Don’s pants.

Jeff chuckled as he unbuttoned and unzipped Don’s jeans, got his hand inside Don’s shorts. He wrapped his fingers around Don’s cock, pulled and twisted and Don felt like he was being turned inside out.

“Shirt . . . off,” Jeff said, and only then did Don realize that Jeff was tugging at his t-shirt, trying to get it out of his jeans one-handed.

Don leaned forward and untucked his t-shirt, pulled it over his head despite the distraction of Jeff’s hand on him.

Jeff explored the skin Don had revealed with the tips of his fingers, then lowered his head to Don’s neck as those same fingers lingered at a nipple, stroking it, rolling it. Suddenly it was all too much, the sensations, the feel of Jeff, all soft skin and hard muscle, the fact that he’d finally allowed himself this, and Don shuddered and came all over Jeff’s hand.

Don grimaced as Jeff gave him one last gentle tug, urging the last of his orgasm from him. He sank back into the couch, boneless. “Oh, god, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Eppes,” Jeff drawled. “I ain’t done with you yet.” Jeff flicked his tongue along his finger, then kissed Don, a quick peck on the lips. “I love the way you taste,” he said, and Don wasn’t sure if he was talking about the kiss, or Don’s come. Jeff slid off Don’s lap. “Stay right there.”

Don couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. He heard the water turn on in the bathroom, and moments later Jeff returned with a warm washcloth. Don reached for it, but Jeff batted his hand away and did the honors of wiping down Don’s belly and gently running the cloth over Don’s softening cock. Don thought he should feel embarrassed, but the intensity in Jeff’s eyes as he cleaned Don stirred his blood and passion overrode embarrassment. Don’s cock twitched and Jeff glanced up at him, smiled.

Just like riding a bike, Don thought, and pulled Jeff back down for another kiss. The washcloth disappeared somewhere and Jeff’s hands were on Don’s face as he kissed him back.

Jeff pulled away and just looked at Don. “Do you have any idea what you look like when you come?”

Don blushed, but Jeff continued, “Let’s get rid of these clothes,” and Don couldn’t agree more, so he reached for Jeff’s shirt and pulled the tails the rest of the way out of his jeans. Jeff laughed as Don concentrated on unbuttoning him so he could get to the skin underneath.

When he finally slipped the last button, Don pushed the shirt back, off Jeff’s shoulders, and let it hang there. He ran his hands over Jeff’s skin, let the heat of it soak into him, let the play of hard muscle under soft skin remind him of everything he’d been missing. Jeff was perfectly shaped, perfectly proportioned, and hard in all the right places, Don thought, closing his hand over the insistent bulge in his jeans.

Jeff’s head fell back as Don worked him through the denim, and he sucked in a breath when Don stopped just long enough to tear open his jeans. Don pulled Jeff’s cock out of his shorts and just looked at it, the skin shiny and taut along the length, red and slick at the tip. Don swiped his thumb over the head, listening, watching for Jeff’s response. Jeff made a little noise in his throat and his hips jerked, as if he wanted to thrust into Don’s hand.

Don’s mouth watered. “I want to suck you,” he said.

Jeff moaned as he reached for himself and squeezed. “Jeez, Eppes,” he hissed, “give a man some warning. I almost came all over your face.”

Don’s belly fluttered. “Want to?” he asked, then used his hands on Jeff’s ass to pull him back onto the couch, straddling Don’s legs on his knees, his cock right in front of Don’s face.

Jeff was breathing hard, shaking, and his voice sounded tense when he said, “Thought it’d been a while for you.”

“It’s coming back to me,” Don said, and licked the head of Jeff’s cock, filling his tongue with the bitter taste of come, his nostrils with the musky scent of sex. Don covered the head, licked all around it, pressed his tongue against the sweet spot just below the ridge. He shoved Jeff’s jeans and shorts down as far as he could with Jeff straddling his legs and took in more of him.

Jeff’s hands dug into Don’s hair, and Don could tell that he was forcing himself to remain still, giving Don time to adjust to having another man’s cock in his mouth once more. Don pulled off and leaned back, hands on Jeff’s ass urging him forward. “Fuck my mouth,” he said.

Jeff sucked in a breath and his face contorted in pleasure. “Fuck,” he grunted as he came, spattering his release all over Don’s chest and chin.

Don stuck his tongue out and licked come off his chin. “Hair trigger?” he asked and Jeff’s eyes shot open.

“Fuck you, Eppes,” he groaned, and Don laughed, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

“Maybe later,” he allowed, and Jeff groaned again as his cock tried to squeeze one more spurt of come out.

“That was fucking hot,” Jeff said, and kissed Don before staggering to his feet. He took his shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it onto the couch. Don noticed that it fell on top of his t-shirt. “Can you stay?” Jeff asked.

Jeff was right, it had been hot. It was everything Don had missed, and everything he wanted to do again. He let Jeff take his hand and pull him to his feet. They washed up in the bathroom then finished undressing. Jeff found the remote and thumbed off the television then turned off the light. They crawled under the covers and it didn’t feel strange. It felt right, curling up around someone who was all angles instead of rounded curves.

Someone who was hard in all the right places. Don curled his hand around Jeff’s softening dick. Usually.

Jeff moaned. “‘M good, Eppes, but not that good.”

Don smiled into Jeff’s neck and promised himself that he’d let Jeff show him in the morning just how good he was.

The End


End file.
